1 72 The Wilderness Hunter 



Indeed the night sounds of these great stretches 

 of mountain woodlands were very weird and strange. 

 Though I have often and for long periods dwelt 

 and hunted in the wilderness, yet I never before so 

 well understood why the people who live in lonely 

 forest regions are prone to believe in elves, wood 

 spirits and other beings of an unseen world. Our 

 last camp, whereat we spent several days, was pitched 

 in a deep valley nearly at the head of the stream. 

 Our brush shelter stood among the tall coniferous 

 trees that covered the valley bottom; but the alti 

 tude was so great that the forest extended only a 

 very short distance up the steep mountain slopes. 

 Beyond, on either hand, rose walls of gray rock, 

 with snow beds in their rifts, and, high above, 

 toward the snow peaks, the great white fields daz 

 zled the eyes. The torrent foamed swiftly by but 

 a short distance below the mossy level space on 

 which we had built our slight weather-shield of pine 

 boughs; other streams poured into it, from ravines 

 through which they leaped down the mountain 

 sides. 



After nightfall, round the camp fire, or if I awak 

 ened after sleeping a little while, I would often lie 

 silently for many minutes together, listening to the 

 noises in the wilderness. At times the wind moaned 

 harshly through the tops of the tall pines and hem 

 locks ; at times the branches were still ; but the splash 

 ing murmur of the torrent never ceased, and through 



